


Corrections

by pumpkinscript



Category: Bad Samaritan (2018)
Genre: Bad Samaritan - Freeform, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, But not exactly watersports, Cale Erendreich - Freeform, Character Death, Dubcon Kissing, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Kissing, Masochism, Murderer, Non-Consensual Touching, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Oral Sex, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Porn Watching, Porn With Plot, Psychopath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Kissing, Rough Oral Sex, S&M, Sadism, Sexual Content, Triggers, pissing, trigger warning, tw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 23:36:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20105497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinscript/pseuds/pumpkinscript
Summary: An animal.I‘m chained up in his basement like an animal. All alone. No light at the end of the tunnel.What the hell am I supposed to do now?





	1. Kidnapped

I swayed in time to the pulsating music that wafted through the nightclub. I hadn't had anything to drink, but I was getting tired and my feet were threatening to fall out from under me. My best friend, Michelle, had gone off somewhere; probably to go twerk on her boyfriend in the middle of the crowded dance floor. She had said she'd be back soon forty-five minutes ago. She had turned 21 just last week. I had turned 23 two months ago. Though the age gap is small, the immaturity just radiates off of her, unlike me. I was never really one for big, loud parties or anything... at least not like she is. My 21st was what most people would call "unredeemably lame." _Thanks, Michelle._ I decided to forget about her and give my legs a rest, sitting down at the multi-coloured LED-lit bar. Though the place was flooded with colour, a blanket of boredom and, dare I say melancholia, settled down on me.

Not a minute after I sat down, out of my peripheral view, I noticed a man come in. I tilted my head slightly to get a better look at him. I was visibly younger than he was; he looked like he was somewhere in his early forties. He was clean cut, wore a sharp suit, and looked MUCH too wealthy to be in a place like this. He was quite attractive, I admitted to myself. To my surprise, he wandered over to where I was sitting and took the seat next to me. 

The water I had earlier hit my bladder and I suddenly needed to use the restroom. I didn't want this man to think I was leaving because of him though, so I held it.

"What are you drinking?" he said suddenly, leaning over at me but not quite making eye contact. I didn't respond for a second, half due to the unexpectedness of having a drink bought for me, and the other half being a silent protest from my lower stomach, which didn't seem very excited to be taking on any more liquid. After a moment, however, I responded.

"Uh, whiskey. Neat," I answered. "Thanks." He raised his hand and the bartender came over. He ordered two drinks, both the same.

"I was never one for super sweet drinks, either," he chuckled.

"Great minds think alike, I suppose."

He chuckled, then turned to me. Eye contact. "I'm Cale."

"(Y/N)," I responded.

"Pretty name," he smiled. "Suits you."

"Thanks. I've never met anyone named 'Cale',” I said. "I like it."

"Thanks. It's not a very common name," he said, taking a sip out of the glass the bartender set down in front of him. I did the same. "So," he continued, "what are you doing sitting here by yourself? Surely you're not single."

"Yeah, I am, actually," I said. Personal questions like that used to creep me out. Now, they don't bother me as much. I've had my fair share of guys trying to get into my pants... desperation dripped off of most of them. Cale, though, maintained an appealing sense of cool. "I'm actually here with my friend. She's celebrating her 21st tonight."

"Don't feel like dancing?"

"I'm not much of a dancer," I replied.

"Hah... me neither," he laughed. "So, did she just... up and leave you?"

"Yeah," I responded, an edge to my tone. "She's got a boyfriend. I shouldn't have expected much less of her, to be honest. But it's her birthday; I can't be problematic today." I knocked back the rest of the beverage. I crossed my legs, tightening my thigh muscles. I still needed to pee, but I wasn't about to walk away from him. "So. What's your game?" I said, turning to him.

"No foreplay with you, huh?" he chucked again. He certainly had an attractive smile.

"Not socially, no."

"And other places?"

"Perhaps foreplay isn't too terrible a thing in certain circumstances..." I unsuccessfully tried to hold back a smile. He grinned back at me.

Damn it! I was leading him on, and I shouldn't be. I was in no place for a relationship, or even a one night stand. I couldn't even come to a party without being deserted by my best friend, and that says something; especially since I was the one who presented the initial idea to come here. Shit... I needed to say something before the flirting went too far. I turned back to him, awkwardly shifting in my seat.

"Look," I started, "I don't mean to be rude or anything, and hopefully I'm not reading into this too far, but I'm not in the right place right now for anything... relationship-y?" I grimaced. _ Relationship-y? Was that even a word? God I'm so stupid! _

Instead of trying to convince me otherwise, like most guys, he smiled at me, thus catching me off guard. "Hey, no worries,” he said. “I get it."

"T-thanks," I stuttered. "I'm really sorry. I hate leading people on and giving them the wrong idea. It was selfish of me. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it."

We sat there in an awkward silence for a few more minutes. I painstakingly tried ignoring his existence, but I was bad at doing that, too. My bladder decided that there was no more waiting and I decided to get up and find the toilet.

"I'm gonna run. I need to use the bathroom and then get out of here. Nice meeting you, though."

"Likewise," he said, backing the rest of his whiskey in one smooth motion.

"And thanks for the drink." I gave him a half-smile as I got up from my seat and grabbed my phone and wallet, shoving them both in my pockets. I was never one for purses... they were just big, obnoxious things that were inconvenient to carry around. I always bought pants with pockets as to avoid the issue. I nodded a "g'night" at him, then started to make my way through the crowd and towards the back hallway where the bathrooms were. Making my way through the crowd was no easy feat. What seemed like hundreds of people, drunk and high, flailed about in every part of the club. The flashing lights and loud music alone were enough to send anyone into a state of panic. Finally, I made it to the hallway. 

Right as I reached out to open the door, I felt a hand grab my waist and pull me back, slamming my body against the brick wall facing the bathroom. My head hit the wall sharply, making me a bit hazy. I could feel a headache coming on. My attacker grabbed my wrist and pulled me out the exit, leading me into the vacant back parking lot. Once we were out, I was pushed up against the brick again. This time, I was a bit readier than before and I threw my head forward in order to keep it from slamming against the wall. All of the wind was knocked out of me, despite my efforts to damper the impact.

"Cale?" I coughed, trying to catch my breath. "What the hell?" 

Without warning, he leaned in and kissed me. I turned away, sputtering.

"Get the fuck off of me, you creep! I need to fucking pee, so you'd better let go! I'll scream!"

His face was now completely void of expression. His voice was monotoned and emotionless.

"If you scream, I'll shoot your tongue off." He flipped back the side of his blazer, revealing a gun on his hip. Then, he leaned closer. "And if you piss yourself right now, I will bash your fucking head in. Got it?"

I nodded quickly, shaking with fear as tears started to leak out of my eyes. My stomach tightened as I did my best to hold it.

"If you do anything to damage my car, I won't hesitate to kill you. You understand me?"

"Y-yes," I sputtered.

"Yes, _ sir _ ," he corrected.

"Y-yes, s-sir."

"Good." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1,355 words


	2. Tarp Room

He grabbed my wrist again. He pulled a set of car keys out of his pocket and clicked them. The sleek lights on the Maserati in front of us turned on. If I wasn't so terrified, I'd be impressed. The soft white body of the car captured my gaze, and I couldn't help but gawk a little. He dragged me over to the back seat and threw me in. Shutting the door, he climbed into the front seat. The engine roared to life when he put the keys into the ignition, and he hastily maneuvered out of the parking lot and sped onto the road. The ride was smooth, but I continued to shake as tears poured down my face and violent shivers took over my body. It didn't take long to get to the destination; I assumed it was his house. 

The outside was modern and contemporary. it was all white corners and grey accents. The landscaping was immaculate; it looked like something out of a Hollywood movie. As soon as the garage door opened and we pulled in, I could tell the inside was going to be nice, too. He got out and opened my door, motioning for me to follow him. I got up out of my seat, bouncing a bit on my feet to try and control my bladder. Opening the door to the kitchen, I could see that I had been right. Everything about the place was clean cut and organised. He must have had some sort of OCD to keep everything _this immaculate._

I followed him over to the stair rail and up a flight. He led me to a door, which was sealed with a big deadbolt lock. He reached around his neck and took off a circle of twine with a key on it, inserting it into the lock. Soon enough, the door clicked open and he led me inside.

It took a second for my eyes to fully adjust. The ground crinkled under my feet when I walked— I was standing on a big tarp. It covered the entire floor and all four walls. A desk sat to the left and a single wooden chair to the right. He shut the door and switched on the lights, leaning on the desk and turning his head my way.

"You can use the bathroom now, if you'd like."

I slowly turned to the door to go out and find it. Right as my hand turned the knob, he jumped away from the desk and slammed his hand against the door, shutting it.

"I didn't say you could fucking leave!" he snapped, standing right in front of me.

"But you said—"

"I said you could use the bathroom. I didn't say you could leave the damn room."

"What the hell am I supposed to do?" I raised my voice, anger and confusion causing more tears to roll down my cheeks.

He sighed, frustration lining his features. "God, do I have to explain everything to you? You're like a fucking toddler." 

I whimpered, trying to understand what he wanted. 

"Take off your pants," he stated, cutting off my murmured protests.

"...What?"

"Take them off!" 

My breathing was jagged as I reached down slowly and shakily to undo my belt. I slid it out of the belt loops carefully, and he grabbed it out of my hands and threw it to the other side of the room. I clamped my hands down by my sides, refusing to go any further.

"D- do I h-have to?" I cried, mascara blurring my vision.

"Jesus Christ," he rolled his eyes and threw off his blazer, letting it land somewhere near my discarded belt. Reaching forward, he aggressively undid the button on my pants and unzipped them. I started squirming, crying loudly and begging him to stop. He pulled the fabric down my legs, exposing my bare skin and causing my phone and wallet to fall out of my pocket. Goosebumps prickled up and down my thighs as he told me to step out of my pants and shoes, which I did; he tossed them across the room, as well. His hand wrapped around my wrist again and he pulled me across the tarp, pushing me up against one of the walls. 

"If you don't stop crying, I'll fucking kill you."

I hiccoughed and stifled my sobs as best I could, which still didn't seem to be good enough for him. "Shut the hell up!" he growled, putting his hand against my mouth, preventing any sound from escaping. He used his knee to separate my legs, which had been tightly pressed together, and told me to stay that way as he stood up straight again.

My eyes widened and I pleaded silently with him as I felt his hand on my stomach. He pressed against it, angering my bladder even more. I held it. He pressed against it again, harder this time. I still held it.

"Come on," he sighed. His voice dropping in volume. He spoke to me as if I was a pathetic child on the brink of tears. "I know you have to go. You were practically putting on a ballet for me on the way up the stairs."

I just blinked. 

"If I take my hand off your mouth, will you stop crying?" he asked. I nodded vigorously. He took his palm off my face, tilting his head at me. I stayed silent, even though I felt like my heart was going to beat right out the front of my chest. "Why are you being so stubborn about this, huh?" he asked. His voice was that of a disappointed parent as he caressed my sides. He leaned in close to me and kissed my cheek. I felt his hot breath on my ear as he pressed his against my stomach again. I squeaked as I accidentally let go a little bit, wetting the fabric of my underwear. I heard a few light drops hit the ground. He looked down and chuckled, then leaned next to my ear again. "See?" he whispered. "I knew it. Come on. Stop holding it in."

He shifted his hand a bit so that his fingers were above my thigh gap and the back of his palm was right on my bladder. He pushed again, hard.

I lost all control and liquid rushed down my thighs. I whimpered, my cheeks hot with embarrassment, and I felt his quivering breath on my ear. He spread his feet apart so that I didn't hit his shoes or legs.

After what seemed like an eternity, the flow came to a halt and the room was silent again. He stepped back and sauntered over to the corner where my pants were and grabbed them, handing them to me and telling me to dry myself off with them.

I stepped out of the puddle and onto a dry spot, wiping my legs clean with the denim. He leaned back on his desk as he watched me clean myself. 

"God, that was provocative," he chuckled. "Tears streaming down your face as you unleashed fuckin' Niagara Falls... that was really uh, that was really something."

I glowered at him as I threw the pants back down on the floor. 

"Oh, come on," he said, scrunching up his face in disapproval. "You don't have to be such a bitch about this. You found me attractive the moment you set eyes on me, I could tell. I don't understand why you turned me down; I really don't." 

"Well, turns out I made the right call," I snapped, "you're a complete psycho."

His face hardened and I knew I had made a mistake.

"Come here," he said quietly. My feet felt rooted to the spot. "I said come here!" he yelled, making me jump. I forced myself to walk over and stand in front of him. He stood up straight and pulled me close, resting both hands on my waist. "God, you're so difficult. I'd be angry if I wasn't so aroused right now."

My cheeks burned with anger and disgust, and I started shaking again as he pulled me closer. He grabbed my hand and pressed the palm against the front of his pants. He had an unquestionable hard-on. I took a sharp breath in, tears inching their way out of my eyes again.

"You feel that?" he said, smiling. "That's your fault."

"I didn't choose any of this."

"No, of course you didn't," he rendered. "You were practically begging me to take you right there in the club, though. So fuckin' desperate..."

"I'm not desperate," I snapped. "I turned you down."

"Why _did_ you turn me down? That's something I can't quite figure out."

"Because you're crazy!" I shrieked.

"You're so on edge," he scoffed, then his expression softened. "I think you need to calm down a bit. I can help you do that."

"No way in hell."

"Well, you're gonna to have sex with me eventually whether you like it or not, so, compliant or not compliant... it's really not my issue."

"Fucking bastard!" I yelled, spooked out of my mind. I jerked myself free from his grip and ran to the door. I turned the handle and, to my astonishment, it opened. I sprinted out and stumbled over to the staircase, adrenaline pumping through my veins. I practically tripped and fell on my face as I ran down the stairs. I made it to the door I came in through and yanked at the handle. It didn't budge. I tried turning the big lock at the top, but it didn't move, either.

"Fuck!" I yelled, kicking at it before I gave up and ran for another exit. I reached the front door, which was locked as well.

As a last resort, I tried the back door. It wasn't much different.

"Goddamnit!' I yelled and started sobbing again, collapsing down to the floor and pressing my face into my hands. I heard footsteps and I raised my head. Cale was standing directly in front of me, hands in his pockets, looking content.

"You thought I wouldn't secure my house?" he mocked. "You can't outsmart me. I'm not an idiot." He crouched down and tilted his head at me. "You've got some serious issues with defiance. We need to correct that. Don't you agree?"

I snivelled, pulling my legs closer to me. 

He pursed his lips in despondency. "Come on," he said. "Stand up." He grabbed my arm and pulled me up, less than willing, to my feet. He wrapped his arms around me, embracing me. "In time, you'll learn that there is no room for error. Corrections will be made, and you will comply." He pulled back and took my face in his hands, bringing it to him and kissing my forehead softly. _"You will be corrected."_

— 24 HOURS LATER — 24 HOURS AFTER INITIAL ABDUCTION —

My eyes fluttered open, and I suffered a moment of confusion before I remembered where I was. He had taken me back upstairs and put me in the Tarp Room. After having me clean the place I pissed myself with a bucket of soapy water, he ushered me over to the wooden chair that sat next to the wall. In my initial shock of being kidnapped, I hadn't noticed that the chair had straps built into it. Leather straps. He tied me to the chair and gagged me so that I couldn't talk. 

I'm not sure how long I had been asleep... I was a bit discombobulated to say the least.

When he first left me alone, I didn't fall asleep right away. I had taken in my surroundings, making a mental note of where everything was in the Tarp Room. His desk had a iMac on it, along with a checkbook of some kind. Next to the checkbook was my phone and wallet, which had fallen out of my pants when he took them off of me. I still had nothing on but a shirt, bra and underwear. I wasn't sure what was in the desk; I had never seen him open it. In the corner to my left, right above the door, there was a tiny camera. He had told me, before leaving, that he could turn it on and off with his phone. Therefore, he could check in on me at any time during the day without actually having to be home. When the lights around me turned on, that meant he was watching. 

I hadn't eaten in what felt like forever. I was almost grateful when the door opened and he walked in. He had, in his hands, an apple, a bowl of soup, and a spoon. He placed them on the desk as he closed the door back behind him.

"You're awake," he said, "finally. For someone so terrified, you sure do sleep a lot."

I tried communicating, but the gag in my mouth prevented any words from coming out. He walked over to me and took it from my mouth, giving my face a much-needed rest from the thing. 

"How long have you been gone?" I asked.

"Mmm, about 24 hours."

"I've been asleep for a whole day?"

"Yeah, just about. I've brought you food." He untied my wrists, so that I could move my arms, then he grabbed the apple and bowl and brought them over to me. I looked at him suspiciously. Anxious thoughts ran rapid through my mind.

"I'm not going to poison you, if that's what you're thinking."

"For some reason, that doesn't exactly reassure me," I sneered.

He huffed, then grabbed the spoon from the desk, took a spoonful of the soup and put it in his mouth. When he pulled the spoon from his lips, he licked it clean, staring at me while he did. He handed me the apple, bowl and spoon and told me to eat. Disgusted that his saliva was all over the spoon but not deterred, I shovelled spoonfull after spoonfull down my throat, hoping that the quicker I ate, the quicker the hunger pains in my stomach would go away. As I horsed the small portion of food down, Cale sat at his desk, typing at his computer. 

After ten minutes of typing and clicking, he stood up and took the bowl and discarded the apple core and spoon inside it, once again resting it on his desk. He tied my hands again, making sure I wouldn't be able to move a muscle. 

Then he left.

— 48 HOURS LATER — 72 HOURS AFTER INITIAL ABDUCTION —

He had come in once to feed me again, twelve hours after the first time. It was just twelve hours past the second time when he came in again. He gave me the same things: an apple and a bowl of lentil soup. It was disgusting, but I ate what I got. As soon as I finished my food, he strapped my hands back down again.

After typing on his computer for a while again, he stopped and turned to me.

"You know what I haven't done yet?"

I shook my head.

"I haven't looked through your iPhone," he mused, grabbing my phone off its place on the desk. He started trying combinations. 

"Ha!" he snickered. "Your password was "password". What a fuckin' genius you are, huh?"

_ Ugh. Shit. _

"Let's see what we have on here..." he scrolled through the contents of the iPhone, chuckling to himself as he did. " "I love you zillions. From mom." How sweet. How about we check out Safari?"

_ FUCK. Anywhere but there. _

His eyes widened as he scrolled through my tabs. 

"Porn," he grinned. "Nice." He looked over and saw me grimace. "Oh, no need to be ashamed of it, (Y/N). Everyone does it." He clicked again and the sounds of loud sex filled the room. "Not sure if everyone watches _ this _ kind of porn though. That's some real kinky stuff. S and M, BDSM... all the acronyms."

"Please stop it," I murmured.

He looked over at me. "Stop? Why would I do that? I'm having so much fun." He smiled. A shiver ran down my spine.

He paused the video, got up from his desk, then sauntered over to my chair, squatting next to me and holding the phone up so I could see it, as well. This particular video was one where the woman had been completely tied to the bed. The man, who had tied her down, was fucking the life out of her as she screamed for mercy. 

He clicked the play button, and the audio once again filled the room. 

I turned my head away and shut my eyes. Not a split second later, I felt his hand yank my head back, facing the phone. "Open your fuckin' eyes!"

I did. 

"Good girl," he cooed.

Five minutes in, my breathing had sped up. I couldn't watch this stuff without getting turned on, even in situations like this. My anatomy simply didn't allow for it. His breathing had sped up, too, and I noticed that he was palming himself through his trousers. I grimaced again, trying my best not to throw up the contents of the food he just gave me. 

Finally, after seven minutes of pure hell, the video ended. He clicked out of Safari and opened Camera. He stood up, a small tent still pitched on the front of his pants, and snapped a photo of me.

"I think you're the most attractive when you're aroused," he said, admiring the photo.

"I'm not aroused," I spat.

"Yeah... that's a complete lie. I could hear your breathing; it wasn't exactly steady, and your cheeks were bright red. _ And _ you only became more excited when you noticed that I was getting off on it, too."

"That's bullshit."

He shut the phone off and placed it back down on his desk. 

"(Y/N)," he started, "Your attitude is really throwing me off. I've told you to fix it up, but clearly, you haven't. What am I supposed to do about that?" 

He was getting angrier every second. I didn't respond.

"I said, _ what am I supposed to do about that?!" _

He threw his hand out and slapped me across the face. The sharp sting brought immediate tears to my eyes and I let out a high-pitched yelp. I could feel a welt forming on my cheek. Not a moment after he struck me, he did it again, but on the other cheek. I screamed and my head fell forward; tears voluntarily poured from my eyes, now. His fingers laced through my hair and he jerked my head up to face him. He was squatted down in front of me, shaking with anger. 

"Like I said. You _ will _ be corrected."

That's the last thing I heard before I felt his fist connect with my nose and I passed out.

— TWO WEEKS LATER — 408 HOURS SINCE INITIAL ABDUCTION —

It had been the same thing every day. He came in twice to give me food, once to let me out to use the bathroom (thank God I didn't have to repeat what I did the first time), typed on his computer, then left. The camera would activate and the lights would come on about two or three times every day, but nothing more than that. Only a few words were exchanged during those times he came and gave me food. Always an apple and lentil soup. I was eventually given a new change of clothes, which was one that, fortunately, also included a pair of shorts. I received a couple more bruises, and each one hurt worse than the previous. After the first two days, though, he hasn't tried to kiss me since. For two weeks, It was the same routine. I had learned what times to be awake and what times to sleep. I didn't have a clock but my internal body alarm adjusted accordingly. 

Today, though, he didn't come back after twelve hours. 

Thirteen hours passed, then fourteen, then fifteen. A whole day passed and I felt like I was going to starve to death by the time he finally came back.

He entered the room, but he didn't have any food with him this time. He walked over to me, ungagged me and undid all of my restraints. 

"Follow me. We're taking a trip."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3,388 words


	3. Cabin

My immediate thought process was that he was taking me away to kill me. I didn't have any choice but to follow him, though, so that was what I did.

He led me out of the Tarp Room and down the flight of stairs. We strode through the kitchen and out through the garage door, climbing into his Maserati. 

"This is going to be a long trip, so you're welcome to sleep on the way there," he said once we drove out of the driveway. "And don't try anything, huh? I have a gun."

The trip _ was _ long. Sleeping was difficult, given the amount of bruises peppering my skin, but, in the end, I managed. I fell in and out of consciousness the first half and looked out the tinted window the second half. By the time I had awoken, we were surrounded by snow. The scenery was beautiful. Glittery white powder covered the fir trees, and every now and then, I could spot a deer bounding through the forest. Free.

_ Freedom. _ How I miss it. I remember when the biggest worries of the day were trivial things like whether or not I was going to order takeout or make something at my apartment, or figuring out ways to blow off steam because my best friend did something to upset me. What I wouldn't give to get that back.

On the way up, I spotted a few missing posters with my name on them, and Cale chuckled a few times when he saw them.

Finally, we arrived at our destination. The cabin was very secluded. A gate at the front kept unwanted visitors out, and the trees shielded everything beyond that. 

Once he turned the car off, he looked at me in the mirror.

"This place is really important to me," he said. "I don't show it to just anyone. Only when I see something really special. That wild spark."

Once we got out of the car, Cale took his phone out of his pocket. With a few clicks, all the lights in the cabin turned on.

The inside of the cabin was nice. The things, however, that interrupted the beauty of the room were, on the table and hanging around on the walls, there were a variety of loose restraints and devices, and, on one side of the room, there was a big metal cage; large enough to hold an elephant. I noticed the small bed and a metal trash bin inside.

Cale sat me down on the couch almost immediately after we arrived. He held up the gag that had previously been used to keep me quiet over the two weeks prior.

"We won't be needing this anymore," he said.

"I won't scream," I promised.

He just looked at me and shook his head in a condescending manner. "No."

He picked up a collar from the table and held it up. It was leather, but there were two little black boxes attached to it.

I jumped when he yelled at it, and the boxes lit up with electricity. He yelled again, and they buzzed again.

"No you won't," he said. "Lift up your hair."

I hesitantly lifted it up, and he reached around my neck and tightened the collar around it. He stood up and put his hands in his pockets, looking around the room.

"What do you want from me?" I asked, breaking the silence.

After a moment, he responded. "Well..." he said, "your dressage, your training, is shaped like a pyramid. You're in the middle, learning rhythm and routine."

"And what's at the top?"

"The top?" his voice got higher, almost as if he was speaking to an ignorant child. He smiled.

"Freedom," he said and smiled. I scowled at him when he turned his back to look through the cage.

"If you haven't guessed yet, this is where you'll be spending most of your time. You'll be sleeping in here, as well. When I tell you to go back to your cage, you will get up from wherever you are, put your collar back on, if I had taken it off, pick up the padlock and lock yourself back inside. Understand?"

I nodded my head.

"Now," he said, "it's time for you to get properly cleaned up."

He showed me to the bathroom and told me how to start the water and showed me where everything was. He also gave me an exhaustive list of things to do to clean myself. He took my collar off before he went.

As soon as he left the room, I shred my clothes and started the shower. I wasn't allowed to lock or even close the door. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I looked terrible. I hadn't had a proper shower in two weeks. Damn, was this going to feel so good.

As soon as the hot water hit my skin, I felt like everything just sizzled away. All of my worries... all of my fears... Cale... everything left my mind. The warm water reminded me of my time working at my old boss' office. I worked there around the time I didn't have a place to stay. I'd sleep in the locker room, which was uncomfortable, but manageable. When I woke up in the mornings, I'd immediately hit the shower. The hot water was one of the best things about my life back then. Hell, it was the only good thing in my day. After I had turned the knob and the water had stopped hitting my skin, I knew I'd have to put on a brave face and try to make it through the day without a mental breakdown.

The water felt amazing, at least for a few minutes. Not long after, I had to turn the water off and dry myself. I wrapped the towel around myself and stood in the tub, water dripping off me.

I heard him round the corner and I turned my head.

"I'm clean," I said. "I'm clean, I swear. I did it all exactly as you asked."

He made slow steps towards me and sat down on the bench opposite me as I continued to stand in the draining tub.

"Circular motions?" he inquired.

I nodded shakily. "Circular motions, using the correct soap and lotion in the order you told me." He disgusted me. No amount of soap could wash his stench away.

He nodded, his lips pursed and his eyebrows raised, looking me over. His throat bobbed up and down as his eyes swept my towel-clad figure.

"Drop the towel," he said, monotonously. 

I shook harder in my place as I scrunched up my face in an effort not to cry. I had never had to be completely naked in front of him before.

"Did you not hear me? I said drop the towel."

I squeezed my eyes shut as I let the towel fall to my feet, exposing myself completely to him.

I could hear him take a deep breath in. I didn't open my eyes. I didn't want to see the look on his face. I didn't want to know how much he was getting off on this.

A minute later, I heard him stomp out of the room and I opened my eyes again. I scrambled to put on my clothes as quickly as possible. As soon as I pulled my shirt over my head, I heard his voice again from the other room.

"Put the collar back on and go to your cage."

I finished getting dressed and did as I was told.

— 12 HOURS LATER — 420 HOURS AFTER INITIAL ABDUCTION —

I shot up as I heard the front door open. I stood at attention as Cale made his way over to my cage. He had a camera in his hand.

"This is your friend, right? The one at the bar that night? Michelle?" he said, raising it and showing me a picture of my best friend.

I looked back at him, shaking. My face gave it all away.

"Yes?" he lowered the camera. "Good." His arm extended and he reached through the cage, stroking the side of my head. "You're so good."

I exhaled a breath of self-hatred as I banged my head against the metal.

Damn it. I knew she would be the one asking questions. Harassing the police; trying to get them to drop everything they were doing an find me. Shit. 

I started crying; silent sobs racked my body.

He was going to kill her. 

"Oh stop being so dramatic," he said. "Come on. Let me get your collar off and we'll have dinner."

As soon as I sat down at the table, he brought the bowl of soup and the apple over to me and placed them on the table in front of me. He hadn't made himself anything, so he just sat at the table with me. I felt his dead eyes on me as I ate the soup he had prepared. I glanced up every now and again to see if his position had changed.

His hands, clasped together, were positioned right below his chin. His head tiled itself as he gazed at me.

We spent around ten minutes in silence. 

"You're excused," his monotone voice cut across the silence. I put my bowl and spoon down, picking up the collar and tightening it back around my neck.

I rose from my seat and started towards the cage.

The front door was open.

My emotions and logic, in a split second, had an argument loud enough to bring tears back into my eyes. I couldn't walk out. He'd kill me.

I trudged back into the cage and shut myself in, my heart sinking to the bottom of my stomach.

— 13 HOURS LATER — 433 HOURS AFTER INITIAL ABDUCTION —

Cale stood at the sink, silently washing the dished from the first and second meal I had eaten. In routine circular motions he scrubbed... producing an almost tranquil white noise.

I sat on my mattress and bit at my fingernails absentmindedly.

Clank!

He threw a spoon down onto the ground with such force it knocked me out of my daze and caused me to jump.

I could see visible anger on his face, his breath came in short pants of pure rage.

"There will be an unholy correction," he choked out as he strode across the room, grabbing a whip off its hook on the wall. "There will be FIRE!" He turned towards me and screamed the last word. I quickly got to my feet and pointed out the spoon on the ground outside my cage.

He stopped and slowly gazed downwards. He bent over and picked the spoon up, bringing his face back up to face me.

"What were you planning on doing with this?" he asked quietly.

"Nothing! I swear!"

"You swear..." he exhaled, pursing his lips in a look of disapproval. He leaned in close to the cage. "No breakfast," he whispered and walked away.

— A WEEK LATER — 769 HOURS AFTER INITIAL ABDUCTION —

Routine returned eventually. I got used to waking up at a certain time for breakfast (minus day two), washing my body a certain way and even eating my food in a certain amount of time. Whenever I had to wash myself, I would always close my eyes when I dropped the towel. He had never told me to open them while I did. Well, not yet, at least.

Today, I ate my soup in silence as he resumed his usual spot, as we usually did.

"You're excused," he said, signaling that my time was up. I put my spoon down and reached for the collar.

"Wait," he interjected, standing up. 

"Come here."

My feet sluggishly propelled me forward as if I was on auto-pilot. I stopped about two feet away from him.

"Closer."

I took a calculated step forward. Now, only a few inches separated us.

His hands found my sides and he stroked, up and down, up and down. It'd feel like a caress meant to be comforting if it was from anyone else.

Shit. Shit. Shit. I had gone so long without having to endure any sort of sexual contact. The mere thought of anything to break that streak was enough to send me into panic.

He leaned down and his I felt his breath against my mouth. Just barely.

Then, he pressed his lips to mine, softly kissing me with his mouth closed. I was shaking so hard and I didn't kiss back.

He tilted his head and kissed the sides of my mouth, and then down my jawline, and then below it. His pressed his lips right below my ear, bringing his left hand up to tilt my head accordingly, and his right to bring me closer.

He worked his way back up to my lips, then drew back, staring me in the eyes.

"Kiss me back."

I whimpered

"Please don't," I shook with silent tears. 

_ "Kiss me back," he growled. _

I hesitantly leaned forward, meeting him in the middle.

The kiss itself was very awkward. He practiced prolonged closed-mouth kisses that kept my anxiety running... wondering if this was it. wondering if this was the only thing he would do to me.

For a long time, that seemed possible. It seemed like the only thing he wanted to do was kiss me. Kiss me with little to no emotion, because the only emotion I had seen him express was anger.

Then, shattering any hope I had left, his hand reached my cheek and his thumb fell over my chin. He pulled on it slightly, causing my mouth to open and his hot tongue to slip in, tasting my own with snakelike precision.

His other hand pushed against my waist, guiding me towards the couch. 

I panicked and pulled back impulsively. Shouting a last-minute "Fuck, no!", I pushed him off and tried slipping past him, but his hand flew out and hit my stomach, knocking all of the wind out of me and bringing me to the floor.

He sauntered over and stood right in front of me. I looked up in terror at his sharp figure. 

"You know," he stated, "I think I like seeing you on your knees." 

I started frantically trying to scramble away from him, dreading the implied. He chased after me, pulling me up by the arm and slamming me into the wall. 

"Goddamnit, (Y/N)! Why do you have to be so fuckin' difficult, huh?"

I sobbed, falling back down; a complete mess on the wooden floor of the cabin. He kicked me. Once, twice, three times. I couldn't breathe by the third. My lungs felt like they were on fire and my ribcage was painted purple, much like the rest of my body. He didn't touch me for at least five minutes after I collapsed to the floor. 

My crying slowed down enough for me to look up and see that he had taken a seat on the couch.

"Put your collar back on. Go to sleep."

— TWO WEEKS LATER — 1,441 HOURS SINCE INITIAL ABDUCTION —

It was the middle of the night when I woke up. It took me a moment for my eyes to adjust to my surroundings. I wasn't quite sure what had woken me up until I sat up and saw Cale standing right outside my cage. 

"W-what did you say?" I asked groggily.

"I said I killed her."

My stomach hit the floor. Metaphorically, and then quite literally. I started heaving and I barely made it to the bin that was next to my bed. Shaking with horror, I emptied all the contents of my stomach into the metal can. I dry-heaved for a second after I stopped vomiting, but eventually, I regained control of my stomach. My face, on the other hand, poured tears.

Over the past few weeks, I had learned to stay quiet if I didn't want my hair singed off by the collar around my neck. I had only been buzzed a few times, thank God.

I looked back up at him from my place on the floor.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I scoffed, shaking my head at him. I spewed a low but angry dialogue. "Is capturing and torturing me not enough for you, you sick bastard? God you're sick! Why, why on God's good green motherfucking Earth did He make you so fucked up? WHY?"

The moment I raised my voice, the collar zapped me. Any part of me that wasn't already on the floor hit the wood, hard. I felt like my skin was on fire, but soon enough, the electricity came to a halt and I could sit up again.

"Capturing you," he said, "and torturing you. Hmm." He shifted his weight to one leg and crossed his arms as he stared at me, expressionless through the cage. "I don't torture you. I teach you. I discipline you. You, however, have quite a temper. I've actually held back, you know. I could've fucked you weeks ago, but I didn't. I could fuck you now, if I wanted to. I decided to show you mercy then, and I'm showing you a hell of a lot more than you deserve now. Your friend over here, well... she was not the type of girl I show mercy to. She was asking too many questions. Because of her, the police were starting to stick their noses in places they didn't belong. Ergo, I dealt with the little snitch."

I let out a single sob when he said the words 'dealt with the little snitch.' 

"I am so kind to you, (Y/N)," he said. "I don't get why you can't understand that. You never appreciate anything I do for you."

"Because you're crazy!" I whispered frantically. "You're a complete psychopath!"

He chuckled to himself, sighing and letting his head drop to his chest. Suddenly, his fist was raised and he slammed it against the cage, raising his head and bringing his face close to an opening in the cage.

"I am NOT CRAZY!" he screamed at me, eyes bloodshot with hypocritical insanity. "You want to know why I'm not crazy? Crazy people get caught. Do you want to know what I did to your best friend? What I got away with doing?"

I shook my head frantically, trying to spare myself the details. Ignoring my protests, he continued. His voice however, was calmer when he spoke, dropping an octave and decreasing in volume. He pressed his cheek to the metal and stared directly at me. 

"She took me, voluntarily, might I add, back to her apartment. I guess that boyfriend of hers didn't last long, did he? Hah; either that or your friend's one hell of a cheater."

I scoffed.

"After she locked her door, she led me into her bedroom and we made sweet, sweet love... all night long."

I held back the urge to upchuck my stomach lining again, desperately trying to push the mental image out of my head. I didn't want to imagine my best friend fucking this... abhorrent monster. I didn't want to imagine the look on her face when he... when he killed her.

"How dare you," I shivered with anger and disgust. _ "How dare you." _

"After I fucked your best friend right within the walls of her own apartment, I pulled out my gun and I shot her brains out. It was almost sad... the pretty white sheets on her bed weren't white after that."

"Fuck!" I exclaimed, rocking back and forth, hiccoughing my way into a full mental breakdown.

He drew back from the frame. "To the police, it'll look like a suicide. Nobody will ever know it was me."

"You're one sick, demented man."

"No," he murmured. "I'm not."

He grinned at me and a shiver ran up my spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3,364 words


	4. Appeasement

— A WEEK LATER — 1,609 HOURS, or 2.2 MONTHS AFTER INITIAL ABDUCTION —

Since the crude announcement of the premature death of Michelle, I had lost my appetite. I ate enough to evade a scolding from Cale, which happened to be the minimum amount of food needed to keep me alive. 

I didn't feel alive. I didn't feel dead, either. I wanted to die; death would be easier than having to go through this. 

However, the most pathetic part of this whole thing wasn't the fact that Cale himself was a murderous psycopath that got off on the torture of other people, but that I didn't have the guts to take the easy way out of his torture and kill myself. I had tried.

The first time I had made any sort of attempt wasn't a very successful one, as one may deduce from the fact that I'm able to recount it. Once he had left the cabin, I had screamed as loud and long as I could, trying to electrocute myself to death. I ended up giving in the third time a bone-rattling jolt of electricity was sent through my nerves. 

The second time, I decided to get a little bit more creative. Though the door to the bathroom was to be left open while I showered, Cale never came in while the water was running. One day, plugged the tub and sank down into the water, trying to rid my lungs of all available oxygen and accept H2O as my new source of air. Cale ended up noticing how much longer this particular bath session was taking, though, and with a mighty roar of vexation, yanked my skinny body out of the shower and threw me onto the floor. Apparently, the thought of my death was unsatisfying to him in every scenario except in the one where he takes my life himself. He had kicked me again, bruising my ribcage and probably fracturing a few bones in the process while he was at it, too. 

I hadn't the motivation to try suicide a third time.

Day after day, motivation of any sort left me. I wasn't getting out on my own, that was for sure... I had even asked him about it over dinner one day.

"Cale," I said, suddenly wary of the first time since the initial abduction using his name.

"Mm?" he answered from across the table, not looking up from his computer.

I wiped a bit of lentil soup from the side of my mouth. My movements had gotten sloppy with the amount of energy lost from not eating properly. "Would you ever let me go?" I asked, not looking up from the wooden table.

He sat in silence for a moment, then softly shut his computer. He rested his chin on his crossed hands and sat my name in the tone a parent would use if they were about to talk to the child about something difficult.

"(Y/n)," he said again, "you're mine now. If I let you out into the world after all I've done for you... well, what kind of person would that make me? I've got to fix you, don't I? You're a long way from seeing the outside of these walls, where you're at."

_ So, if I just played nice, I'd have a shot of being let out sooner? Was that what was happening?_

_Play nice, (y/n), just play nice. _

"'Where I'm at?'" I asked him, my voice showing no sign of detest.

"Yes, 'where you're at,'" he repeated back to me. "If you were a little more cooperative, things would move along a lot quicker."

"Cale," I said, his very name acidic on my tongue, but my tone sweet as honey, "I want to be a bit more cooperative." _ That was a lie. _ "Can you tell me how?"

He turned to me, his expression quizzical.

"I just want things to... move along a little quicker, like you said."

He didn't say anything to me, but continued to look me up and down, confusion dotting his face. I half-glanced at the collar still siting on the table... maybe I wouldn't have to wear it forever. Maybe he'd let me keep it off if I was good.

_ What was _ good, _ though? _

If I had learned anything about Cale, it was that the Slim Jim in his pants was an easy way to get him in a good mood. 

_ Did I really want to go that far, though? And what then, if he decided to keep me like I am now? _

I needed to do whatever I could.

"What are you thinking about, right now?" Cale's voice cut through my thought bubbles and I was pulled back to reality.

"I, uh," I started. _ Think, think, think! _ "I was thinking about that night at the bar." 

"The night we met?" he asked, still confused, but a pleasantness to his voice. 

I nodded.

"You were so beautiful when I first met you," he reminisced. _ So sick. _

I held my breath and forced a blush and a half-smile, still not looking up from the table.

"Tell, me," he drawled, "what did you think of me when you first laid eyes on me?"

"I—" 

_ Force it. Lie to him, if you have to. Make him happy. _

"I thought," I continued,"I thought that you were attractive." I pressured myself to keep going. "You were easily the richest person in the room, based on the way you held yourself and the clothes you wore. I overheard other women talking, and you were the centre of their gossip. Men were envious, women were entranced."

"Go on," he said. I looked up and he was still wearing a grin, but his cheeks were pink and I could tell he was getting off on this. 

_ Come, on, (y/n), swing it. Swing it. _

"Well," I continued, slowly rising from my chair. "When I first saw you, even though I had to go to the bathroom, I held it; I didn't want you to see me as rude. Even in the first few moments I laid eyes on you, I wanted to impress you." I made my way over, slowly, to where he sat. "Your presence was arousing... it was all I could do to contain myself..." I placed my hand on the back of the chair, leaning down so that we were almost eye-level.

"(Y/n)," he murmured.

"Cale," I whispered back, throwing away any self-worth I had left and leaning down, pressing my lips against his. His lips weren't warm, exactly, but they were smooth. They were well-maintained, just like every other part of him. From the wrinkles in his shirt to the last hair on his head, everything was in its place. He kissed me back, lacing his nimble fingers through my hair and bringing me down to straddle him. He pulled my waist against him and I felt his solidity underneath the fabric. 

His hand wrapped around my wrist as we kissed and he brought it down in between us and placed it on his crotch. I palmed him through his trousers and felt his hips move under me.

_ Further, (y/n), further! _

I steadily started to undo his belt with one hand, trying to control my shaking as I did. He started to undo the buttons on my shirt, spiking my anxiety. I needed to get ahold of myself! I unzipped his pants and reached below his boxers. My stomach sank as I wrapped my hand around Cale, eliciting a sharp gasp from him and breaking the kiss.

A moment of hesitation clouded my vision, and a million thoughts raced through my head at once.

_ What the fuck was I doing?! _

My vision came back into view and I could see his face again. I could see his horrid, angular, terrifying, clean face.

"So?" I heard him say.

_ I was saving my ass. _

I started moving my hand up and down, and his eyes rolled back in his head in bliss. He rested his head on the back of the chair and I leaned forward and dragged my lips along his neck. His hand grasped my other arm, grounding himself. His grip was strong enough to leave bruises.

He was _ long. _ Not particularly thick, but he certainly wasn't lacking in length. 

It wasn't long before his pleasure became vocalized; low, sultry groans came from his throat.

_ Ok, (y/n), think. You're doing this right now, and you're okay. You're alright. You're doing fine. You won't be fine anymore if he tries to have actual sex with you, though. Don't let it go that far. Find some way to stop before it goes that far. _

His spidery hands grasped my ass and danced along my thighs. I could tell that sex was exactly what he wanted... and by my actions, it was exactly what he thought I was wanting, too. I couldn't have sex with him, though. I couldn't.

I needed to go far enough to appease him, but not far enough to fuck him.

I came back to reality when he bit down on my tongue, hard; but not hard enough to draw blood. Hard enough to leave a bruise, though? Definitely. He sucked on my aching tongue for a moment, then drew back, caressing my cheek with his hand. Suddenly, he grabbed my waist, pushed me off of his lap, tucked his underwear and pants back like they were, and grabbed the electricity collar from off of the table.

He faced me and gave me a sorry, condescending look. I stared at him, confused and angry as he reached around my neck to fasten the device. Once it was on, he cupped my cheek.

"Do you really think I'm so stupid?" he said in a soft voice. I glowered at him in contempt. "If I'm going to start rewarding you, it's going to be for good behaviour that's not forced. _ That... _ was forced. You were so tense... I actually thought you might pass out." He chuckled. "Don't get me wrong, I'll fuck you eventually, but today isn't that day. I'll leave you to brew in your own terror for a bit longer."

_ "Fuck... you," _ I choked out in a barely-audible whisper.

"You will," he responded, smirking and leading me back the the cage, "...eventually."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter... but I made up for its brevity, I think... so... forgive me? ;)
> 
> 1,875 words


	5. Sean

— A MONTH LATER — 2,339 HOURS, or 3.2 MONTHS AFTER INITIAL ABDUCTION —

I had heard about it happening with cats. I had read about it somewhere on the internet back home. Their bodies would get so used to the diets and routines they were on that they wouldn't be able to stand it any longer and it would make them sick. Physically sick. I had never heard about it happening to a human, though.

And yet, it was happening to me. Cale didn't seem to care that I was sick. He had me tie the trash bag up after I was done throwing my guts up and hand it to him by the handles through the cage for him to discard. Everything was beige... the walls, the backs of my eyelids as I slept, the colour of my vomit after every meal. Everything. Everything was the same. 

However, that night was different. I remember waking up discombobulated... Cale was at the front door rattling the doorknob with his keys trying to get in. Wait, not keys. Keys didn't sound like that. Then the sound was at the window. I shot up, looking up towards the window as it shook. Suddenly, it opened.

A head popped in, looking around. It didn't take him but a split second to spot me.

It wasn't Cale. It was a boy. He looked seventeen or eighteen. His hair was dark and scraggly and hung over his face in locks. His face would've been very nice to look at if it wasn't twisted with anxiety. Hell, it was _still_ nice to look at. 

"Who are you?" I asked carefully, unsure of myself. I still wasn't sure if I was dreaming or not.

"I'm Sean," he choked out. "My god, she wasn't lying. Michelle sent me. Before... before she died." He had an Irish accent. "She asked me to find you. She told me to find you if it killed me. And he's on my trail, (y/n). I need to get you out of here before he gets back. Do you know where he went?" Sean was shivering from cold and terror. "Hello? (Y/n)?"

"Oh, sorry," I said, snapping out of my stupor. "You're real?"

_"Yes,_ I'm real. Now where is he?"

"I don't know. He never tells me. I don't think he'll be back until morning, though."

"Oh, great!" Sean said and backed away from the tiny window. He kicked it with his foot and it broke, the frame falling to the floor on my side. So judging on how he kicked it, I must currently be partly underground. He climbed in and dropped down to the floor. he had a pair of bolt cutters in his hand and walked around to the door of the cage, making quick work of the lock. Soon enough, it was off. I unbuckled the collar and took it off of my neck, throwing it onto the floor. "Come on," Sean said, leading me away from my prison and towards the front door. He opened it and, for the first time in over three months, I stepped outside. 

It was snowing. I wasn't wearing much of anything; just a canvas t-shirt and pants, and my feet were bare. The snow was freezing on the soles of my feet, but that was okay. I looked up into the night sky and let the snowflakes hit my eyelashes. I took a deep breath in, taking everything in.

"Jesus, you're not wearing any shoes," Sean said. "My car's not far. I think I can carry you through the snow. Is that okay?"

"Yeah," I said. 

"In my arms or on my back?" 

"Back," I said, and wrapped my arms over his shoulders and jumped onto his back. His hands clasped behind him, supporting me, and off we went. 

I had forgotten what actual human contact felt like. I didn't count Cale as human. The few select times he had tried to kiss me or touch me... he felt cold. Like a machine. Sean's clothes were cold, but his skin was warm. My cheek rested against a bare patch on the nape of his neck, where he had apparently forgotten a scarf. The path we were following was just carved out enough we could see it through the snow. It went through the woods, and I assumed it led up to the gate where Cale and I first came in.

"How did Michelle find you?" I asked. 

"I'm... I was in her Photography class at Portland State University."

"Portland State?" I asked. "You don't look nearly old enough to be in college."

"I tend to get that a lot," he replied. "I'm twenty years old, but I don't look it. I'm about to be twenty-one soon."

"Ah," I said. Then, after a moment, "I was abducted at Michelle's twenty-first birthday celebration. At a club."

"Damn it."

"Funny thing is, I had planned it— the celebration at the club. But I didn't even want to go."

"Sounds like me," Sean said. "I never was one for loud, crowded, annoying places." 

"Michelle was, though."

"Yeah, she was."

"Damn I miss her."

"She was asking too many questions. I had told her she was asking too many questions. She told me that if anything were to ever happen to her that I'd promise that I'd find you. And... something did happen to her and here we are. A determined one, she was."

"Ye—" suddenly my response was cut off and my entire world went black at the edges. I had never felt such pain in my life. I fell off Sean's back and hit the snowy ground hard. Like my head was underwater, I vaguely heard Sean scream and I heard him hit the ground a second later. Another round of shocks in my side and I passed out.

— 2 HOURS LATER — 2,341 HOURS, or 3.2 MONTHS AFTER INITIAL ABDUCTION —

I awoke in pain. My side was killing me. I lifted up the side of my shirt and there was a red spot on the skin there.

"Finally," I heard Cale's voice. Then a banging on the cage. "Hey! Sean! Wake the fuck up!"

There was a stirring next to me and then Sean bolted upright. 

_"Oh, no, no, no, no, no..."_ Sean muttered.

"I had gotten halfway home! Motherfuckin' halfway!" Cale screamed. "And I realized that I had left my computer here. What a stroke of luck huh? What a stroke of motherfuckin' luck!" I didn't respond, and neither did Sean. He just started crying. And I got up off the bed and sat down on the floor, leaning up against the wall. 

_"Fuck,"_, I whispered, letting my head fall back on the wall. 

"And what the hell did I find?" Cale continued. "Little Sean Falco, breaking out my girl. Did you get her, Sean? Did you get her Sean Falco? Isn't she so pretty? Is that why you wanted to come rescue her like some shitty knight in shining armor? You're fuckin' pathetic!"

Sean was still slightly murmuring to himself, repeating "no," over and over again in disbelief. 

"Yeah, she's pretty. She's beautiful. Way outta your fuckin' league. She doesn't know how to behave, though. 

"Goddamn it!" I yelled. _I had been so close... so close to getting out of here. So close._ "Goddamn it, goddamn it!"

Cale just laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed. And eventually, he left the cabin. Leaving Sean and I alone in the dark. Caged once again.

— 6 DAYS LATER — 2,485 HOURS, or 3.4 MONTHS AFTER INITIAL ABDUCTION —

I wasn't sick anymore. 

I hadn't been able to get out, but my life hadn't been changed drastically like Sean's had been. I actually had someone to talk to, now. We spent hours while Cale was away playing Truth or Dare, Would You Rather and I Spy just to pass the time. It seemed like there was always something new to learn about Sean. But just six days in, I was already feeling the effects of being around another human being— a boy— around my age. 

I couldn't stop fantasizing about him. I hadn't had sex in so long, and the only sexual attention I had gotten was the unwarranted from Cale, or the hidden touches I had been able to sneak in during the nighttime when Cale wasn't in the cabin. The Truth or Dare sessions turned sexual really fast, and after the six days of being locked up together, we had already dared each other to kiss the other. And it only took one dare to take it further.

"Sean, I dare you to have sex with me."

It was dark in the cabin. Almost pitch black— like it always was in the middle of the night. Back before I had been kidnapped and I would take a boy home, we'd never have sex with the lights on. It was too human. Too real. Now, I would almost prefer to be bathed in LEDs. I had been cooped up with that monster for months, getting no displays of human emotion from him but anger. And lust, if you count that. On the nights that had been especially long, I had entertained myself sometimes by imagining Cale with robot arms and legs. He'd get stuck out in the rain and twitch and spaz, and electric sparks would shoot out of his joints. He would break apart into different pieces and fall to the wet ground, completely formless and lifeless. A bit morbid, I know. Especially for someone only in their early twenties. But what one's mind would come up with after staring at a blank wall for hours would astound some. And Sean was already bored out of his mind. It hadn't even been a week.

My cellmate was soon on top of me, kissing down my neck and my collarbone. The cot in the cage wasn't the most practical place to have sex, but it was good enough. Sean pulled my shirt off and I returned the favor. He undid the tie on my pants and slid his hand in, pressing his fingers against me.

"Oh, god," I moaned.

I was already so turned on that it didn't take but five minutes and I was wet enough. Sean undid his pants and, with a few strokes from his hand, slid into me. 

He moved on top of me, finding a comfortable and steady pace. A tear slipped out of my eye.

"Jesus, did I do something wrong? Am I hurting you?" he said, stopping. 

I sniffed; "No, no Sean, I'm okay." I reached up and brought his face down, kissing him. A few more tears spilled down my face and wetted the places our cheeks touched. I embraced him, holding him as close as possible. He started thrusting again and a sob escaped my lips. He paused.

"Keep going, keep going," I cried through the building emotion. And once I really started, I couldn't stop. I doubt he heard my near-silent pleas for stability. They were hardly audible whispers. "Keep going, keep going, keep going..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can also find my works on my Wattpad account @fanficsbybae


	6. Zipties

— 12 DAYS LATER — 2,773 HOURS, or 3.8 MONTHS AFTER INITIAL ABDUCTION —

Cale had come in the following day and taken Sean away.

Six days. Six days was how long I had had someone other than my deteriorating brain to talk to. I didn't know what he did with him. I didn't even know if Sean was still alive. 

Sean. 

I kept saying his name over and over in my head. Sometimes, I'd catch myself saying it out loud. Over and over and over to myself. His name was imprinted onto my conscious. I couldn't stop thinking about him. I had been mouthing his name one day at mealtime and Cale had reached across the table and slapped me, scaring the shit out of me so bad that I knocked the bowl of soup onto the floor.

And here I was now, 12 days later. I was stuck in the same goddamn place with the same goddamn food and the same goddamn monster to feed my insanity.

"Y/n, eat your food."

I sat at the table, spoon hanging limply in my hand. I stared into the watery mixture. Clumps of half-cooked lentils looked like warped faces to me. If I squinted, one sort of looked like me. Another like Sean.

"No."

"Excuse me?" Cale set his coffee down and looked at me, anger in his eyes. 

"No."

"No," he whispered to himself, then turned back to me. "You've entered this vegetative state, (y/n). I don't fucking appreciate it. You barely knew the kid seven days."

I raised my bloodshot eyes and looked at him.

"You won't stop mumbling his name,” he said. “What the fuck is that doing for you? Minus making you miserable?"

"You make me miserable."

I had expected another sharp slap, but instead, Cale chuckled, catching me off guard. "I know, I know, (y/n). I'm such a bastard." He spat the word “bastard.”

"Where's Sean?" it was more of a statement than a question. I knew he was dead.

"Stop thinking about Sean. Your life is here with me. Not with that twig."

I didn't respond. A few minutes passed as I stirred my soup.

"Did you really enjoy fucking him that much?"

My eyes snapped up. He was smirking.

"I have cameras everywhere, (y/n), you seem to forget."

Of course he has cameras everywhere. I knew he did.

Nausea flooded into my gut. Oh my god. Was that it? The way I chose to spite him? By fucking someone else in his line of sight?

Oh my god. Was it just because I was stir-crazy and touch-starved? Or was it that and a bit of wanting to hurt Cale in the process?

“What are you doing to me?” I asked suddenly, my voice shaky and my tone vulnerable. 

Cale’s eyebrows pursed. 

“What are you talking about?” he said.

It was silent for another minute. Heat rose off the wooden table and sunk into my palms, making them sweat. 

Suddenly, it seemed to click for Cale. He rested his chin on his spidery hands and looked at me, amused. 

“You were _aware_ I was watching you,” he mused. “When you fucked your little roommate.”

I winced.

“Sean!” he shouted at me, making me jump. “You’re too funny, (y/n). It’s like watching a goddamn comedy.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Excuse me?”

“Did it hurt?” I asked again, staring ahead at the wall in front of me, expressionless and emotionless. Like I needed to be. “When I fucked him? Because you knew I’d never fuck you like that—”

There was that slap I had been waiting for. His hand went immediately to my throat, squeezing and pushing as he stood up and leaned over me.

“I’m not some crazed teenager, (y/n),” he whispered dangerously. “I don’t need to prove my own worth... if anything it should be the other way around. However, I think it’s high time you deserve some punishment.”

I gasped for air as his hand tightened around my windpipe. I was still getting air in, but barely. 

Cale grabbed my waistband and yanked it sharply, pulling my hips up to his, then slammed them back down on the chair again, sending a jolt of pain through my backbone. His hand released my throat and I gasped, hardly catching my breath as he dragged me by the arm out of my chair across the room, pushing me against the outside wall of my cage. My thrashing was limited as soon as Cale took two spare zip ties out of his pocket and tied my wrists behind my back to the cage. 

He bit down on my collarbone as he undid my pants and let them fall to the ground. I started kicking as hard as possible, flailing my legs about me left and right. He, however, was stronger than I was and pushed my entire body to the cage, keeping my knees in place. His hand ran along my stomach and slipped into the fabric of my underwear. I started crying profusely, hyperventilating even more with every move of his hand. 

My thighs were burning because of the strength I was exerting attempting to knee Cale. He held one knee down with his free hand and he had his own knee pressed against my other. 

It took everything I had, but finally, I was able to get one of my knees loose and kick Cale in the gut, knocking all of the wind out of him and making him double over. Now, I had even more space. I drew my foot back and swung it forward, immediately crashing into his shin. He fell backward onto the floor, landing on his shoulder. 

He faced the ceiling and his mouth opened and closed like a fish’s. Tears streaked his face and he held his arm with one hand and kicked the leg I hadn’t (broken?) wildly, probably to alleviate the pain from the other two places that had been assaulted.

After a few long and intense minutes of watching Cale flail around on the floor, he was able to get his phone out of his pocket and dial a number.

“D-Damien I need you to c-come to the cabin right now!”

I could hear the man’s voice over Cale’s ragged breaths.

“Erendreich, what the fuck is going on?”

“The bitch broke my fuckin’ arm and leg,” Cale shouted, “get the fuck over here! I need to get to the goddamn hospital!”

“I’m on my way.”

—————

What have I done?

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find my works on my Wattpad account @pumpkinscript


End file.
